


A Familiar Voice in the Dark

by orphan_account



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: AU, F/M, Timeline changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been seceral hours since Runner Five stopped responding, since Sam lost visual of her on their scanners. But he won't give up hope, not as long as she's out there. Not until she's home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Familiar Voice in the Dark

“Come in Runner Five.”

  
Sam turns a few dials and fiddles with the microphone cord- as if that’ll magically boost his signal forty miles to the North. He’d try anything at this point, really. In fact, he’d even consider giving up Marmite if he could have Runner 5 back on his scanner.

  
“Runner Five, do you copy? Abel Township to Runner Five- Come in Runner Five.”

  
He’s been at this for hours. Janine called it quits two hours after her deal with New Canton went South and Runner Five went dark. She’d exited the Comms Shack without a word, not storming or furious, just silent. Last he heard she was working on some wiring repairs. He knows she’s not going to admit it, but the guilt’s there, set into the worry wrinkles on her forehead, her face tired and worn but he doubts she’ll be getting any sleep anytime soon, unless Dr. Meyers has anything to say about it. It’s odd to see Janine like this, no longer the unmoveable and strong force of nature in a post-apocalyptic world she usually is. She looks, human, even. A slight crack in her tough veneer.

  
Sam knows he looks even worse. He also knows that it’s silly for him to stay up- desperately hoping that Runner Five will suddenly switch on her headset and pop up on their scanner and he’ll hear her lovely voice say “Whoops! Sorry ‘bout that Sam. Bit of a tech mishap there. I’m just a hop and a skip away from Abel, I’ll be home in just a few.”

  
He knows it’s not going to happen. What’s likely going to happen is that they’ll have to close the gates once the late night horde is at their doorstep. Then he’ll go to his tent and toss and turn all night, and when he gets up in the morning the red beacon will still be on top of the tower. Runner Five won’t be at breakfast to greet him with her usual grin, or at the hospital getting her post-run checkup, or anywhere at all and it’ll be weeks before he actually accepts that she’s gone for good.

  
Heck, maybe in a month she’ll return to Abel, gray and moaning and still wearing her headset and he’ll be the one to order covering fire to-

  
No, no good to think like that.

  
“Abel Township to Runner Five, Runner Five if you can hear me- please,” his voice breaks on the last word and Sam squeezes his eyes shut because, no, he is not crying right now, not when he’s got a job to do.

  
“Runner Five. If you can hear me, we can’t see or hear you, and well, we’ve got no idea where you are. Best guess is to the North, if you were somehow able to evade the trap New Canton set up for us, and if you haven’t run into any zoms. But hey, if anyone could do it, it’s you Runner Five. We hadn’t thought you’d survive that hospital run, but hey you made it! And then you led our contact from Mullins base through hostile territory.”

  
“Anyways, Runner Five. You know the drill, scanners don’t work great at night, and that there’s more than one reason we don’t do night missions. I- well we, we’re hoping you’re alive out there Runner Five. There’s the Red Beacon atop the Radio Tower, and if you see it, come on home. And hurry, if you can, because we’ll have to lock down for the night soon and once we do there won’t be any getting in, zom or not, I’m afraid. So, yeah. Run.”

  
Sam cuts the mic off and drops his head, his face resting in his hands. With every minute that ticks by it’s less and less likely that Runner Five will be making a reappearance. Not that he’ll give up hope, mind you. But well, it’s hard, hoping for the impossible, no, not impossible. Hoping for the unlikely. Because anything is possible, really. Jack did it- they found him two weeks after he went silent. Runner Five had been on the search party that found him, actually. Good old Runner Five. If ever you need something, ask Runner Five, or that’s the saying around the Comms Shack at least. Runner Five could make it back, nothing’s impossible, only unlikely. And hey, Runner Five could get back with a scratch or something and wouldn’t that be grand? Welcoming her in with open arms and then having to turn around and-

  
He doesn’t want to think about it.

  
“Runner Five- Oh, Damn it. Janine left ages ago and it’s not like anyone else is tuning into this frequency. Alice, if you’re out there, Come in Alice. Respond, breath extra heavy into your mouthpiece like you know I hate. Heck, hearing you throw up right now would be excellent. I mean, likely not for you obviously, because the whole, you know, puking thing. Just, Alice we gotta hear from you. Things aren’t looking too good.”

  
Sam picks at a bit of lint on his trousers. He’s pretty sure Alice got them for him during her last supply run. Well, not for him specifically, but she had been teasing him about the sorry state of his last pair and had happened to pick up a pair his size the next day. Potato, potahto.

  
“Oh Alice, you’re not even my first Runner Five, you know that? There was Jeremy before you, and Katie before him, and ‘Becca before that. Call it bad luck, or some kind of Freudian theory, but it’s always the fives, Alice. Maxine doesn’t care for it, thinks it’s unhealthy for me, getting too attached to people in the line of danger and feeling like I’m the one who’s responsible. Although she’s one to talk isn’t she, about getting to close, huh? Janine’s threatened to end my career on the mic. Hey, I can’t help it, man. Besides, I’m a professional, never let anything get in the way of Abel Township business.”

  
“Jack, and I guess Eugene by default or association or something, whatever suits your fancy, well they’re always making fun of me for it. Jack once even took to wearing a five on his sleeve and asking if I’d take to him too. Got Eugene all riled up, which is amusing to say the least.”

  
Sam sighs. Lucky lucky Eugene who actually got his runner back. Who had spent two weeks broadcasting night and day on the radio or running Comms search and rescue runs. Never settling for dead air, always trying to some way to be heard. Working on a handfull of hours of restless sleep and only taking breaks when they forcibly removed him from the Comms shack for a meal.

  
“You know, Alice. This job, it’s odd. Not many else like it. Me chatting away into your headset, you only getting a few words in edgewise. All mission, no time for games or general tomfoolery. Could you believe that I didn't know your real name until two weeks after you started running? Guess I always just knew you as Runner Five and never thought to ask. And after all the hours we’ve spent working together, after the thousands of words I’ve sent through your channel, I hardly know anything about you. Favorite color, preferred Harry Potter book- if you’re a Star Trek or a Star Wars kinda girl. How you take your tea. Important stuff. Guess we’ll have to right that when you get back- huh Alice? That is, if you get back. Not gray.”

  
There’s a rapping on the door to the Comms Shack and Sam spins in his chair towards it, “Hey Sam, it’s Eugene. Listen, can I come in? You’ll have to help me with the door I’m afraid.”

  
Sam opens the door, revealing a grim faced Eugene. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you guys shut down Radio Abel a while ago?”

  
“Yeah, I’m here to talk to you.” he shuffles his grip on his crutch and kicks at some dirt on the floor.

  
“If you’re here to tell me to leave you can shove it you massive hypocrite.” Sam snaps at him, more malice in his tone than he intended or is honestly called for.

  
“I’m not. Honest, Sam,” he shifts his weight again, “And I hate to pull the missing leg card, I really do, but do you mind if I sit?”

  
Sam nods, suddenly feeling bad for how he barked at Eugene earlier. It’s not his fault Runner Five is gone. If anything it’s his. He is her Comms Operator- even if Janine was there too. But he’s still prickly about it, so he doesn’t apologize. Not yet at least.

  
“So, I heard what happened with Runner Five. I’m sorry Sam. Really. And if you want to talk, I just wanted to let you know I’m here to listen. Everyone is- but I know what you’re going through.”

  
“You don’t.” Sam balls his hands into fists, fighting the anger that’s boiling up inside of him. “You don’t know what I’m going through. You and Jack, that was horrible. Awful. But you weren’t the one who botched up his mission. You weren’t at the Comms desk when he went dark. You didn’t knowingly lead him into hostile territory without any backup plan or escape route or any sort of prior planning. You and Jack had something, not the fragments of what could have been or what never was and you at least got to tell him you loved him before he left and-”

  
Sam cuts himself off, because he realizes that he’s been yelling and screaming at someone who knows exactly what he’s going through, and how helpless and useless and guilty he’s feeling right now. And he realizes that shouting at Eugene, who has done him no wrong, isn’t going to make Runner Five come back. So he sits himself back down on the edge of the table, unclenches his fists, and listens to the sounds of his breathing slowing in the heavy air of the Comms Shack.

  
“Better? Well, not completely, but marginally?” Eugene asks and Sam nods, not trusting himself with words quite yet. “Good. It’s better to let it all out than keep it bottled up inside of you. Trust me, if you hadn’t yelled all that out you would’ve beaten yourself up about it for ages and driven yourself and the rest of us crazy.”

  
Eugene takes his crutch and starts fiddling with a screw on the side, “Now, I’m going to ask you to say something for me, okay? Because there’s no way you’re going to want to say it for yourself, but you’re gonna do it for me, that make sense? You are going to say ‘This is not my fault.’ Now, I know, I know you don’t believe it. Not yet at least. Hell, you may never believe it. You might wake up everyday for the rest of your life and think to yourself that you almost lost them and how it’s all your fault. Even if they’re in your arms. But, but if you say it enough times it starts to stick in your thoughts and then you’ll start to realize that yeah, it might be your fault, but it also might not be. Can you do that for me Sam?”

  
“It-it’s not my fault.”

  
“Good. Awesome. Now you know you can say it, okay? It’ll work out Sam. Oh, another thing. You have to care of yourself. I know, I know. It’s hard. Especially when they’re out there and you’re in here and you feel swamped with guilt. But it’s necessary, Sam. The runners work to keep us safe, and us dying off from malnutrition isn’t to make things any easier for them. Speaking of, I got you something.”

  
Eugene fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a tiny little plastic cup with about 2 tablespoons of Marmite in it. “Here. Go on, I worked hard to get that for you, you know. Especially on such late notice and practically nothing to trade for it. For a little I was convinced the only way to get my hands on that stuff was to sleep with someone. Don’t tell Jack that, alright? Anyways, I don’t know how you stomach it, nasty stuff that is. I’ll stick to Nutella, thank you very much.”

  
He gives a little laugh, and Sam looks up at him. Eugene’s eyes are soft, almost sad. But he’s smiling, even if it isn’t half as bright as it normally is. Tough guy, that Eugene. And at much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Sam is feeling marginally better. He dips a finger into the Marmite and brings it up to his mouth, savoring the taste on his tongue. “Thanks.”

  
“Don’t mention it.” Eugene stands up, setting his crutch properly under him and leaning in towards the mic, “Runner Five, if you heard that, take it as how much you’re needed here. Come on home. Stay safe.”

  
Sam sinks back into his chair as Eugene leaves the Comms Shack. “Sorry you had to hear all that Runner Five. Alice. Or maybe you’re lucky and automatically tune out whenever you hear Eugene’s voice.” Sam gives a small chuckle, hearing how weary he sounds. The anxiousness and adrenaline is finally leaving him exhausted. One of the guys at the gate’s voice crackles over the radio. Only half an hour until they’ll have to close the gates for the night.

  
“Alright,” Sam sighs into the mic, “Word’s coming in that there’s a few zoms approaching the gates. You’ve got a few minutes still, but then- Well, if you can still hear me Alice, you’d better run. And if not, well...” Sam checks his watch, three hours since sundown. Best to call it quits for the night, even if he’s just going to lie awake on his cot. Maybe Janine could use some help with the wiring.

  
He yawns and then realizes his mic’s still on. “Sorry ‘bout that, Alice. Long night. You should feel bad, keeping me up past my bedtime. Though I’d gladly do it again for you if you’d show that lovely face of yours. Not- not like staying up for- you know. Not like that at all. Not that it wouldn’t be pleasant, because I’m sure it would. No, not that I think about it!” Sam’s face is fully red now, and he drops his head into his hands “You know what, I really ought to shut my mouth before I dig myself even deeper into this hole, right?”

  
“Okay, Alice. Someone will be coming in in just a few and they’ll be sending out a general transmission every 15-30 minutes or so- just in case you decide to chime in.” There’s a rap at the door. “Speaking of-”

  
The Mullins Base Officer enters the Comms Station with their usual calm composure, and looking only a bit bed rumpled. They give Sam a bleary half-smile and a curt nod. Sam tries his best to return the gesture, but he’s exhausted, from a lack of sleep and stress and from the weight of failure after spending so long trying to keep his hopes up. He turns back to the mic.

  
“Alright Runner Five. My replacement has arrived, so-” The Mullins Base Officer points at a read-out screen of one of their radar scanners. “What? No- they don’t work well, or really at all after the sun sets. I don’t know what kind of high tech you all have up there at your fancy military base but here- Wait, is that?”

  
There’s a blip. Faint, and it blinks out every 7th second but it’s there. Moving far to fast to be a zom. And it’s heading straight for Abel.

  
“Runner Five. Runner Five. Dear God, I’ve got you on a scanner. Oh please, please, you’re a few paces ahead of the pack. We’ll be able to get you in just in time if you put on a burst of speed and-” Sam cuts off, and the little blip on the screen is, sure enough, getting faster. It’s moving in what’s likely a breakneck sprint for the gate.

  
“Runner Five! Alice! You’re almost here. Raise the gates! Covering fire! Runner Five- Alice, you did it- you’re. Oh my God I can’t believe-” Sam rips off his headset once he’s got verbal confirmation that gates are shut and that Runner Five is safely inside, headed for the medical.

  
And yeah, he’s crying. Sobbing more like, pushing past the Officer from Mullins and sprinting out the Comms Shack and to the Hospital. He’s panting, because he’s no runner, honestly he’s possibly the furthest thing from it. He rounds the corner to the Hospital tent and there, sitting on a cot in front of a gloved-up Dr. Myers is Runner Five- Alice. Alive and not coughing and not gray and still catching her breath and looking just as exhausted as he is, but God, the way she lights up when she sees him.

  
For all the words Sam seems to have too much of all the time, he’s coming up empty because he can barely feel anything he’s just so relieved and happy and now there’s even more tears rolling down his face. Jesus, he can only imagine the absolute wreck he must look like right now.

  
“She’s fine,” Dr. Meyers says, breaking up the silence, “Not cleared for another run just yet, likely not for a few days. And we’ll be keeping a close eye on her of course, but miraculously there’s no signs of cuts, scratches, or bites.”

  
“I’m okay, Sam.” Alice finally says, and he pulls her into the tightest hug of all time, squeezing her tight to him because he can and he never wants to let go. Her brown hair is somehow soft and out of it’s standard ponytail and he breathes in the smell of her. It’s a little too sweaty to be pleasant under normal circumstances, but given that he’s been under the impression that she’s been dead or worse for the past 10 hours, he’s willing to cope with a little sweat.

  
Then she picks him up, her arms tight around his middle and hauling him off the ground. Alice spins him in a circle, just because she can, most likely. Sometimes he forgets that she’s almost a head taller than him and actually works out, unlike him, so she’s got quite a bit of muscle she can use to haul him around. They’re both laughing like a couple of maniacs and isn’t it just so amazing to be alive.

  
His trainers touch back on the ground and her grip loosens around him, but only by a fraction. Sam, however, doubles his hold around her, pressing his face into her shoulder. He already knows he’s not gonna want to let go anytime soon.

  
“I heard what you said,” she whispers into his hair, “I wanted to respond. Really, I did. But I guess I must have been out of range, or broken something in my transmitter because I kept calling over and over but you couldn’t hear me.”

  
Sam freezes up, suddenly embarrassed now that he’s making confessions of his feelings to an actual person instead of an empty soundbooth. He pulls away from Alice, so that they’re still in each other's arms, but there’s some small distance between them. “You, uh, heard all that did you?”

  
“Yeah. Why? You weren’t just making it all up, right?” Alice’s voice sounds like she’s teasing, but there’s an underlying hint of worry in her features.

  
“Um,” Sam removes his left hand from it’s grip on Alice’s t-shirt to run his fingers through his hair. “No, that was- all accurate I suppose.”

  
“Good,” she says, and that’s all the warning Sam has before her lips are pressed to his and, yes, it is everything he’s ever dreamed of and better.

  
Jack’s never gonna let him live this down.


End file.
